


joy

by daisylincs



Series: Staticquake Advent [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Advent Event, F/M, Relationship Study, Staticquake Advent, Theme: Joy, tbh this is more "tooth-rotting fluff" than "relationship study"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs
Summary: Joyis what happens when we allow ourselves to recognisehow good things really are.
Relationships: Agents of SHIELD Team & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: Staticquake Advent [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034538
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	joy

**Author's Note:**

> _Sooooo_ \- I finally, finally, _finally_ finished my Trick or Treat challenge over on Tumblr ~~and yes I know it's February 2021, yes I know Halloween and Trick or Treat is an _October_ thing for ye Americans, why do you think I'm focusing this much on the FINALLY, adslkfjflkfajdsflkfsadsjfdkh.~~ First of all, a HUGE thank-you to everyone who actually stuck around and stayed patient with me for the admittedly insane duration of said Trick or Treat, and second of all, oh my GOSH, celebrations are in order!! It's brought me so much joy that can finally say I managed to finish this challenge, you guys - and, now, I don't know about you guys, but when I feel joyful, I always write the fluffiest, Team-as-family-est happyfics my brain can come up with. So that is... exactly what I wrote here - it's literally titled _joy_ after all, lmao. And in a parallel I'm finding particularly enjoyable, it also wraps up one of my other standing projects that of my Staticquake Advent fic series. 
> 
> :D :D it really is the week for finishing things and feeling proud of myself!! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of my self-satisfaction at least a bit, and that this will bring you all some _joy._ 🥰
> 
> Special thanks to [Lora](https://would-die-for-fitzsimmons.tumblr.com) for your wonderful support and cheerleading with this one! 💜

Daisy sat bolt upright in bed, and her first thought was, _oh God, May is going to_ kill _me._

That suspicion was doubly reinforced when she rolled over and caught sight of the alarm clock sitting innocently on the little table next to her bunk - sitting there as innocently as could be, but very clearly reading _09:42._

T'ai chi with May was at five-thirty sharp each morning! She had not only missed it, she had overslept _spectacularly._

Rolling out of bed with a muffled curse, Daisy grabbed for the first wearable thing she could get her hands on, pulling it over her with a mumbled "shiiiit" as she simultaneously rooted around with her feet to find something resembling shoes. 

She managed to locate something suspiciously fuzzy, which, mildly to her alarm, made little _tinkling_ noises with each half-sprinting step she took. 

She had no time to search for anything better, though, or even to look at what form of atrocity, exactly, she was wearing on her feet - she had to _run._

Oh, she was so, so dead. 

Her feet skidding wildly on the smooth corridor floors, she dashed around corner after corner until finally, finally - _it couldn't be much after ten, surely -_ she reached the kitchen. 

Something stopped her before bursting through the door, though. Maybe it was her agent's gut instincts, the ones May was always telling her to trust; maybe it was the sound of laughter, so much laughter together that she couldn't pick out who was missing; maybe it was the mild dread she still felt about facing May at ten AM… or maybe it was a particularly loud and in fact downright _squeaky_ tinkle from whatever contraptions she had managed to get her feet into. 

Whatever it was, though, she stopped herself in the doorway, a breath from rushing into the kitchen, and just… took in the scene in front of her. 

Everyone was there, and to her equal amusement and exasperation, they were all covered in varying amounts of fine white powder - flour, if she had to guess, judging by the discarded mixing bowls and pans of half-prepared pancake batter standing around. 

They did this sometimes, this team of hers - every so often, someone would get it into their heads that pancakes would be a very sweet (pun intended, _especially_ in Hunter's case) way to treat the others. 

Unfortunately for that person's noble intentions, though, pancake-baking sessions _inevitably_ turned into flour-and-sugar-and-occasionally-eggs-till-May-yelled-at-them fights. 

Which, Daisy realised, was exactly what she had walked into now. 

Her gaze was drawn instinctively to Lincoln, the way she found herself doing all the time when she walked into rooms now. He was right in the middle of the flour war, wearing a shit-eating grin despite the fact that his shirt was almost completely white. 

"My _hair!"_ Jemma was yelling at him, gesturing furiously up at her head which, sure enough, was streaked with white flour. "I cannot _believe_ you just did that." 

"To be fair, you did empty half the bag over his shirt," Fitz pointed out from the safety of his position standing half behind May. 

Jemma levelled a murderous glare in his direction. "Whose side are you on, _Leo?"_

"The right one, love," Hunter said, popping up next to Jemma's elbow and wearing a shit-eating grin to rival Lincoln's. 

Jemma's eyes flashed, but before she could say anything, Bobbi stalked over, poking Hunter in the chest so he yelped and lost his balance. 

_"Hair,"_ she warned, folding her arms threateningly, "is off-limits." 

"You're just saying that because your hair is finally back to the blonde you like,” Hunter accused, and then the two of them were off into one of their infamous bickering bouts.

Jemma eased herself away from Hunter, exchanging a companionable eye-roll with Lincoln, and he bumped her shoulder with an easy kind of playfulness that spoke of a very comfortable friendship. 

And watching them, Daisy felt a _feeling_ blossom in her heart, blooming until it was filling her whole chest and body.

She didn’t know this feeling, but the best way she could think to describe it was... _warm,_ warmand golden, like daylight. 

Ever since she had been a little girl - since the day she had watched a family of five siblings and their affectionately indulgent parents walk past the windows, bickering playfully among each other, and so _at ease,_ so comfortable together - she had wanted to find that for herself.

And not just the siblings part of it, either - she wanted the _parents,_ too. She wanted parental figures of her own, _yes,_ with her whole heart, she always had - but watching that mother and father stroll casually down the street, hand in hand, and occasionally admonishing a son or a daughter here and there with a fond eye roll… she had wanted that just as much.

She had wanted that ease, and comfort, and safety, and security, and _connection_ those two found in each other. She had wanted that for herself since the day she had first seen it was possible, since the first day she had seen their _smiles,_ easy and relaxed and effortless in each other’s company. 

And as she stood here now, watching her flour-streaked friends laughing and fighting teasingly among themselves, it hit her in the way that the biggest realisations so often hit - not like a speed train charging straight to her position frozen on the tracks, but rather like a gasp of fresh air after stepping out of a sunny building. Like taking off your sunglasses and seeing the brightness of the world’s colours again.

For so many days, weekends, _months_ now, she had barely even paid any mind to these crazy kitchen shenanigans. 

Or, well, no, maybe that wasn’t the most accurate of statements. She _had_ paid them mind, of course she had, because she had been right in the middle of them every time - so much so that she hadn’t thought to process their _significance_ all the way through.

But now, in the way you could sometimes and quite suddenly see the answer of a seemingly impossible riddle after just standing up and looking at it differently, she processed their significance.

That wish she had always had, that lifelong dream of hers? 

_She had it._

She had it right here.

It was unconventional, for _sure,_ but these people, this bickering, this glorious insanity of theirs every Saturday morning - it was _exactly_ what she had seen with that family of seven all those years again, if not physically then most _certainly_ emotionally. 

She had the best sisters anyone could wish for in Jemma and Bobbi, and the finest chaotic brother duo in Fitz and Hunter. She had her protective, sweetheart big brother in Mack, and maybe even another pair of siblings in Joey and Elena, if they stayed a little longer. She had parents - _parents_ \- in May and Coulson, and - 

And in Lincoln she had - 

She hesitated, the daylight-golden feeling dimming somewhat in her heart as she bit her lip. 

What, exactly, _was_ Lincoln to her? They had never really had that conversation, after all - he had promised to stay, and her heart had done a little happy skip before she had stretched up to kiss him. That had been easy. 

Labels, though… Daisy had always struggled with labels, _particularly_ when it came to romance. 

It was easy enough to look at Fitz and Jemma, at Bobbi and Hunter, at Mack, at May and Coulson even, and call them her family - because, meaningful as it was to admit even to herself, it wasn't a physical _reality._

They felt like her family, and that _made_ them her family, as much as anything did. 

But with Lincoln, their relationship was an actual, physical _reality._ Very much so, and very _enjoyably_ so, too. 

And for whatever reason, that made it much… harder to label. 

Suddenly, though, he glanced up from his spirited argument with Jemma, catching her eye and breaking into a wide, instant smile when he saw her. 

She couldn't help smiling back, the golden-daylight feeling rushing back full strength immediately - and she thought, maybe the labels didn't matter that much, after all. 

Not just yet, anyway. Because he was her… her… her… her… _lover._

"Well, look who's finally awake!" he called, dropping the bag of flour he was holding so a cloud of the stuff exploded in Jemma's face and crossing the room to meet her at the door. Completely ignoring Jemma's enraged sputtering, he kissed her affectionately on the cheek, throwing an arm warmly around her shoulders. 

"Hi," she greeted fondly, looping her fingers through his free hand and leaning contentedly into his side. 

Just a second later, though, she jolted away, the full meaning of his words finally sinking into the happy, glow-y haze clouding her brain. 

_"May,_ oh my God, I'm so sorry, I know t'ai chi was supposed to be at five-thirty this -" 

"Don't worry about it," her SO cut her off, surprising but firm. "You had a rough mission yesterday, so when this one -" she gave Lincoln a short, grudging nod "- told me you had slept through your alarm, we both decided it was better to let you rest." 

Just as quickly as it had shocked itself away, the golden, happy feeling was back, flooding through her body with new-found affection. 

"So you're not mad?" she asked carefully, because she _had_ to check. 

Beside her, Lincoln snorted, the sound managing to be simultaneously incredulous and fond. "Daisy, _no-one_ is mad," he promised, giving their interlaced hands a quick squeeze. "Besides, May got to torture me for an entire two hours without you to tell her to go easy on me, so she's probably _thanking_ you, if anything." 

Daisy snickered at that, bumping his hip with hers. "Oh, I bet that was fun." 

He just grimaced in reply, much to her amusement. 

Just to doubly check this, she leaned forward to catch May's eye, and her SO just gave her a tiny, fond smile - so Daisy beamed back, snuggling comfortably into Lincoln's side. 

And - what had that been about ease, and safety, and security? Because she felt _all_ of those right here. 

Leaning into Lincoln like this - in fact, just _being_ with him, caring about him - was _effortless._ It felt like second nature, like, of _course_ she cared about him, how couldn't she? 

He made her feel _safe,_ safe and secure and comfortable. _So_ comfortable - like she didn't have to worry about anything at all, least of all _them,_ she could just… relax into it and enjoy the golden-daylight feeling. 

And later that morning, when Hunter and Bobbi had long since disappeared to go "scope out" the newest SHIELD SUVs (much to Mack's eternal chagrin), Fitz and Jemma had Doctor Who'd their way to the lab, and May and Coulson had disappeared to go do… whatever it was they did in his office all day long, she told Lincoln exactly that. 

"You know," she said, putting down the chocolate-smeared stack of plates in her hands and considering him for a long moment, "I like you." 

Lincoln put his own stack of plates down, quirking his eyebrows at her. "Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah," she said, holding his gaze and giving a quick, sincere nod. 

He nodded, too, but something about the very _solemness_ of the gesture was throwing her off. 

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she crossed her arms and gave him the classic _don't-give-me-this-bullshit_ glare she had learned from May. "What is it?" 

"It's nothing," he said innocently, holding up his hands - but the little twitch of his lips gave him away. 

_"Lincoln,"_ she warned, narrowing her eyes further. 

His lips twitched again, and he took a few quick steps until he was standing affectionately close to her. "It's nothing _much,"_ he amended, his grin full of playful fondness. "You've just got a _bit_ of flour -" he leaned forward and swiped his thumb over her cheek, brushing the corner of her lip "- right here." 

Daisy's mock-glare intensified, and she folded her arms even tighter. "That would be _your_ fault." 

But she was grinning, too, and she thought - 

This is what _joy_ feels like. 

**Author's Note:**

> (If you were wondering whether you were just imagining all the Taylor Swiftreferences in here, then, no, no you were not, my friend. You can blame Serena for sending me a _Lover_ mashup at 11PM last night. 
> 
> … I love you, Re)


End file.
